At any rate, he would not marry her until he stood upon some sort of equality with her.
The wind was swaying him about in its fitful gusts, and he rather liked it.

In his anguish of spirit it was a pleasure to contend with the storm.

The wind, the lightning, the sudden sharp claps of thunder were on his own key.

He felt in the temper of old Lear.

The winds might blow and crack their cheeks.
But it was not alone the suggestions of Andrew that aroused his suspicions.